Unshared Memories

In late fall, work slowed for Jonathan.  In the winter, it practically stopped.  Jonathan was in his winter, he knew.  A winter without springs.  Without summers to look forward to.  Without falls to gather in the harvest and settle in.  He pulled the tractor into the barn and shut it off, wondered what this place would look like without the barn, without the farmhouse.  Full of house after house after house full of people who wanted to escape the city, who claimed to want the land, then did nothing with it except call a lawn care company in to blast it with chemicals once a week.  He glanced at the trailer.  Where would the little silver trailer go? 

God, he loved that child.  He loved her more than she knew.  More, probably, than he was entitled to.  But not more than he ought.  Lord knew she needed as much love as she could get. 

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